blue eyed metaphor
by greencrayon
Summary: Post events of 2X12. "And, well, he tried, but this 'humanity' thing really isn't working for him.  And why should it? He isn't human. It's time he stopped pretending." Elena joins Damon on an uncertain road.
1. love so bad it won't die

A/N: I wasn't planning on starting another story any time soon, but after 2X12 I couldn't not. This is basically just my reaction to it. I _loved_ the episode intensely, obviously, but I wanted to write a story in which Damon stops putting up with all this shit he's going through. It was a rush write, nothing great, just thoughts on e-paper.

She screams for more  
More than just some blue eyed metaphor  
And the trouble is, the trouble is  
She's always searching  
And the hours late, don't wanna hear  
That it's all gonna end soon  
No I'm not crazy, I'm in control

It happens as he stares over the crumpled, drained body on the ground, as his mind registers the effects of his action. As he is enjoying the rushing feeling that temporarily fills his veins with a false sense of being alive. His eyes flicker closed and for a brief moment he allows him self to remember the feeling of being alive, imagines he can feel his heart beating in his chest, his throat, remembers the smell of his own blood, his sweat.

It is in this moment, with death at his feet, death clustering his past, death lingering inevitably in his future, that he realises he is splitting himself in half. But he is _vampire_. There are no halves. He has seen many before him die trying not to be who they are, and always will be. He will not be one of them.

He has spent too long in this town, spent so much time watching her, watching her with his brother, _hating_ his brother, that he hadn't noticed himself turning into his brother. Turning into everything he hates. Everyday he feels himself wasting away, so much energy spent trying to hold back the emotion that threatens to consume him. So much energy spent trying to convince himself, and her, that those emotions are not there.

And he sees, with a sudden clarity that dries the tears from his eyes and releases some of the terror he has held so long within him, that it doesn't have to be this way. He has the power to change it all. He has boasted for so long, fear hidden behind his voice, that he doesn't have to feel, that he is a monster, that he doesn't _care_ about anything, her least of all. All this time he thought he had been lying, but now, the pain that has hidden for so long, embedded inside him, has risen to the surface. And he remembers those aren't lies. That was who he was, who he could be again. He cannot face it any longer. He said he couldn't be selfish with her. And he _wasn't_. But now as the hurt is replaced by a low, dangerous anger, he realises that she has been exceptionally selfish with him. That _bitch_ has spent so long trying to convince him that he is better than what he really is, that he can do _better_, that if he just followed in his precious little brother's footsteps, he could live a normal life. He could be loved. Well, what did she expect? That he wouldn't fall in love with the first person in 146 years to make him believe that he deserved it? She was more stupid than he thought. No, he didn't deserve her, and she would never love him, but she'd forged this pathway for him, wearing that smug convincing smile, enticing him to breaking point.

And for the first time in months he cannot fathom what he is still doing here. Why he is still protecting her, why he continues to watch her, wallowing in self-pity and ill-fated hope. She doesn't want him, not the way he really is. And, well, he tried, but this 'humanity' thing really isn't working for him.

And why should it? He isn't human. It's time he stopped pretending.

.

.

.

He stands in the open road by her home. It is the darkest time of the night, everyone is asleep, and he can hear the deafening silence that he had recently come to hate. The kind that would allow for someone alive to hear their own body, be reminded that they are not alone. The kind that only reminds him of how alone he really is. But now he revels in it, lifts his face to the cold and empty sky and laughs. He is alone, and he has missed the feeling of everything around him being irrelevant. The power of death.

In her bedroom the sweet smell of her, the small, steady sound of her breath intoxicates him. He used to find these things reassuring, _endearing_ even, but now they only fuel his disgust, and he is disgusted even further by the sudden urge he has to discontinue his escape, to get under the covers and curl himself around her warm body until he can convince himself her warmth is his own and falls into a rare and oblivious sleep. His lip curls, despising the weakness that has surfaced in him, and as he shakes these feelings away from him, he is reassured that he is doing that right thing. He has come dangerously close to thinking he is what he cannot be.

She stirs when he sits on the side of her bed, he watches her closed eyes flutter, a small frown cross her face, and he wakes her as she is turning from her back to her side.

"Elena." Her eyes open very fast, latching onto his own immediately. He ignores the small spark that lights up inside him, knows it will soon be gone. She is disorientated, confused, but she doesn't say anything, just looks at him so understandingly, in a way that he can hardly stand to see. He knows why she _thinks_ he's here. Comfort. But she has gotten it wrong. He isn't here for her support, or to talk about Rose, he has already put that all behind him.

She pulls herself up into sitting position as he studies her face. He wants to remember it, although he's not sure why. He wishes he didn't want to, but he cannot deny that he loves her; it's not something he can turn off. He can only control how he deals with it.

He is interrupted from his thoughts by the feeling of her hand, light and soft on his arm. It reminds him why he is here. He can't let her keep doing this to him, keep pulling him down further into this suffocating feeling, that seems so safe, but is more dangerous than hate. She is lying to him. With every smile, every innocent touch, every whispered "Thank you" and loaded look over the shoulder of his brother, every little speech about how she _knows_, how she understands.

She doesn't know shit. And it's about time she knew _that._ He finds himself thinking about how easily he could take her right now, wondering if it's a necessary step to ending this all, proving to himself he can go back to the old him.

He removes her hand with cold, tight fingers, keeping his gaze absent.

Disappointment flickers briefly in her eyes, and he begins to smell her fear. He laughs before he can cry. The harsh, angry noise interrupts the peace of the room, but Elena does not shrink back from him, not the way he wishes she would. Not the way she should.

"I'm not scared of you Damon. I know you say you don't want to feel. I know it's hard when you lose someone you love…" He sees her swallow visibly, remembers too late her parents death, too late for it to make a difference. "But it gets easier. These hard bits…they're worth the good bits. I promise you."

He smirks. God, she never stops trying does she? Always trying to convince him it's worth it. Well, he knows it's not worth it. She's the only thing that would make it worth it. And he is not stupid enough to let himself believe any longer that he could ever have her.

He leans closer to her, allowing no warmth into his eyes as he regards her. He makes his face hard and menacing. It's easy; he's done it so many times before. And now he knows he can go back to who he was, it really is like riding a bike, and he's getting back on.

"It's over Elena. I'm done. No more trying to convince me that this isn't the way it has to be." His words are quick and biting, he sees her flinch, sees her trying not to blink in the face of his barely restrained anger. "Because it is the way things have to be."

"I-I don't understand Damon", she reaches out a hand as if to touch him, but his eyes frown down at it and so instead she crosses her arms across her chest.

"I've tried so hard for you." His voice is earnest but his face is closed off, and she begins to accept that something has changed in him. "But it will never be enough. I wasn't selfish with you, I thought I could be better than that. But the only reason I thought that was because you made me believe it." He reaches out a finger and traces the side of her face lightly, frowning as she leans closer, encouraging the movement.

"Don't do that," he whispers, his voice is filled with despair. "You can't keep doing that to me."

Her eyes are fiery as her confusion at this late-night intrusion, and his cryptic words, turns into anger. "Do what Damon?"

He is suddenly on the other side of the room, his body tense and his eyes narrowed.

"Don't be angry. You're not allowed to be angry. _I'm_ the one who should be angry. All this time I have been trying so hard to be who you want me to be, trying not to be selfish with you…God, if only you knew. But all the while **you** have been so, _so_, selfish with me. I couldn't see it before, but I do now."

He is breathing heavily, allowing the anger to take him over, and feels more free than he has since before he met Elena. She does not say anything in response, but he can see the glint of tears on her cheeks even in the darkness of the room.

"You convinced me to feel. You should've known that you'd be the one I'd end up feeling for."

Still she doesn't say anything, and the silence gets thicker as they silently regard each other. And then, so quietly he wouldn't have heard it if he were human, an apology falls from her lips like a prayer.

He can hear her heart beating, fast but certain. He scowls at her, "It's too late for sorry Elena."

"I know." Her voice is soft. He wants to touch her.

"No, you don't. You don't know a _fucking_ thing about it. I've been here before, in this room, telling you I love you. Telling you that I didn't deserve you. Did you know _that_?" She is crying in earnest now, looking at him with desperation in her eyes. "And I said, '_I can't be selfish with you'_, but you know what? You deserve to know the truth now. I'm not going to protect you from anything anymore, and least of all the havoc you've been wrecking on my heart."

She chokes. "Please don't do this Damon…"

"Do what Elena?" his voice is mocking her. He wants to kill her, he wants to kiss her, he wants to drink from her veins, he wants to hold her in his arms until she stops crying, he wants to listen to the sound of her breath weaken until it stops entirely. Like always she is splitting him in two.

"I love you." Her eyes lock onto his as he says those words in a way she has never heard before. With hate. She does not look away, but she wants to. " I don't want to love you. But you make promises with your eyes that I always believe, and that you never keep. And I can't keep doing this. I can't be around you any longer." He smiles weakly to himself. "I killed a woman tonight." He hears her sharp intake of breath, ignores the sympathy in her eyes, he _definitely_ doesn't deserve sympathy. " I drained her of blood and left her on the road. And all I could think is, what would Elena say?"

He walks toward her, a threatening look in his eyes. "So…what do you say Elena? How does it make you feel to know that I can _never_ be who you think I could be, who you want me to be?" Tears continue to slide silently down her face as she opens, and then closes, her mouth.

"I thought as much." He looks away, his face suddenly showing every emotion he has been holding back. It is the last time he intends to let them show. She needs to see this.

"I'm leaving Elena. I just needed you to know before I left." His voice softens, "I love you. I always will. But I can't let that rule over me any longer. It's broken me." She is staring at him with wet eyes, and starts to say something but stumbles on her words.

"Please…I can't choose. Don't make me choose." He frowns at her, standing completely still.

"What do you mean? I'm not making you choose anything. You've already made your choice. Over and over again."

"Please don't leave me."

He can't help it, he laughs, and pushes away the guilt that tries to wriggle its way into his conscience when she winces and hangs her head.

"I'm already gone."

Then he really is, and all Elena can hear is the sound of her heart beating in her chest.

.

.

.

He has only just arrived back at the Salvatore estate when it begins to rain heavily, the sound of it hitting the roof and the trees outside soothing him. It seems suitable weather for his departure and he feels unexpectedly satisfied by this. He begins to pack the few possessions that mean enough to him to be taken with him. He feels strangely calm after his encounter with Elena, and although it has left a rather bitter taste in his mouth, it's a taste he's used to and he swallows it back easily. He thought he'd feel more relieved, but shrugs to himself, recognising the fact that it will a long time to get Elena Gilbert out of his system. The process has only just begun. At least now he is free. As soon as he gets out of this town he can put it all behind him, resume the ease of his life before all this 'self-improvement' bullshit started happening. No more tears. No more emotional breakdowns in front of meals. No more trying to be more than he can be. After a quick trip down to the basement to collect some blood bags, he finishes packing clothes into an old army duffle bag, grabs his iPod and a bottle of whisky from his bedside table and takes a last look around the room. He is not affected by the thought of leaving it. After all, he reasons, he has eternity to replicate it anywhere else in the world.

He turns and begins to leave, but as he lifts his eyes to the doorway he finds himself frozen on the spot.

"What are you doing here?" His voice is cold and rough. He has no time for anymore of her games. She is soaking wet, her hair dripping water onto the floor, but he can see that the water on her face is both rain and tears. He notices with a sense of dread that she has changed from the pyjamas she was wearing forty minutes ago, into dark jeans and a black rain jacket. There is a small black bag resting in the hallway behind her. _Not_ fucking good. She gives him a blank look that he finds disturbing, before looking past him through the window into the obscurity of the night.

"I'm coming with you."

Laws of man, are just pretend  
They ain't mine  
Love so good, love so bad  
It won't die  
Some talk too long, they know it all  
I just smile & move on

Music: Thriving Ivory - Hey Lady & Queens of the Stone Age - I Never Came.


	2. hollow chest of mine

A/N: Yeap, I'm continuing this. I can never seem to keep my writing style consistent between chapters, so this one is a bit different. Hope you all still enjoy it, especially all those who reviewed and urged me to keep going. A lot of the plot is still up in the air at the moment, so if there's anything you do/don't want to see in this road(perhaps not road exclusively though)trip, let me know!

And when I look to the shape of the sky,  
I give thanks for this hollow chest of mine;  
That I no longer feel  
The great weight of ordeals  
That can make this life so unkind  
Oh and if there's any love in me,  
Don't let it show.

Elena sat very still, in the chair Damon had rather forcefully placed her in, hoping the strong anxiety she was feeling was at least not showing. She knew it would ruin everything if he realised her uncertainty. The warmth of the fire had started to dry her, but she still felt cold. She wondered, as Damon paced the room muttering, whether Stefan was in the house. She could not afford to have him find her here. She could not see him, or she would never go through with what she knew she had to do.

Damon swung around suddenly and stalked towards her, his eyes ablaze with the force of alcohol and anger. He leaned over her.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you're asking?" He practically spat at her, and she willed herself not to be afraid. She could not afford fear anymore.

"Yes."

"No you don't. I don't know what the fuck you're up to but you need to go home, now."

"Damon, I know what I'm doing. I need to leave, and so, obviously, do you. No one I love will be safe while I'm still here. I can lead Klaus away from this town, we can hide…" Her voice got less and less certain as she spoke, until she trailed off completely, unwittingly shrinking under his incredulous stare.

Damon sank to crouch in front of her.

"What you seem to have some how missed, is that the reason _I'm_ leaving is to get away from _you._ You coming with me kind of defeats the purpose don't you think?"

She met his gaze, and tried to look as convincing as possible.

"I understand why you're leaving. I understand what you need to be, who you need to be. I won't pressure you to change. But I need you."

"And what do I get out of it?"

Elena sighed, "I don't know…company?"

"Not really my thing."

Both were silent, and Damon got up to pour himself a drink. It was nearing dawn, he knew that if he was going to go, if _they_ were going to go, it would need to be very soon. He could not decipher his own emotions towards Elena's request to go with him. He knew that he was angry at least; this had not been part of his plan. This would not be the clean break he had planned upon. But a small part of him couldn't help but feel like it was _right. _Maybe it was meant to be. He shot a sharp look at her, she was already looking straight back, her black eyes shining.

"Why don't you ask Stefan? Why me?"

He was surprised by her rising from the chair and walking softly towards him, and narrowed his eyes, silently warning her not to come too close. She stopped a few feet away from him and looked at him with an honesty that made _him_ feel vulnerable.

"I can't answer that. I mean, logically you're the better choice for protection. You're stronger, you're independent, and I'm thinking you'll know where to go. Despite all this, I should still want to go with Stefan, I should-"

"You should be scared of going with me." Damon interrupted. Elena just looked at him reproachfully.

"I trust you."

Suddenly he is gone from in front of her, she feels a rush of wind hit her, and she is the one left dizzy when she turns and finds him standing by the fireplace. He is staring down into the flames, they light up his face in such a hauntingly beautiful way that her chest constricts, and one arm is outstretched bracing himself on the fireplace ledge. The other hand holds the empty glass, and she watches with barely suppressed horror as his hand tightens around it until it shatters, blood and shards of glass dropping to the floor when he opens his hand without looking away from the fire.

"Damon-" Her own hands are shaking, and she finds herself wordless as he turns and regards her coolly, his hand already healing.

"Don't. No more caring about me. That is condition number one." His voice is tight and controlled, but she realises she has won and gulps down a grin.

"Condition two, no trying to change me. No expectations. I will be whoever I want to be, I'm not going to protect you from myself any longer."

She nods, almost imperceptibly, and allows herself to acknowledge that she _has_ been trying to change him, realises for the first time how unfair she has been to expect him to just change for her, and not want anything in return.

"I'm serious about this one Elena," he continues, "I'm a vampire. I kill people. I feed off them. I compel them in order to get exactly why I want. I'm not going to wrap these facts in cotton wool for you anymore. If you're coming with me, you will see all of these things happening. If at any point you can't handle what's happening, or try to tell me to do differently, I _will not_ hesitate to leave you on the side of the road and never look back."

"Got it." The way she whispers it, dread crossing her face before she covers it quickly with carefully manufactured nonchalance, makes him believe her. It also makes his heart twist in his chest and question why the hell he is letting her do this to herself. He quickly banishes the thought. He cannot afford to think like that.

"Third condition, no emotional displays. I don't care if you get homesick, if you miss Stefan, Barbie or witchy, if I run over a bird, if you're sad. Unless we're in danger, I don't want to hear it. If you regret leaving, you find your own way back."

"Is that all?" It is beginning to get slightly lighter, and Elena feels increasingly anxious about Stefan finding them. She wants to get away confrontation free, or not at all. She knows it is selfish, but in the larger scheme of things she is sacrificing her 'normal' life to protect everyone. The least she can do for herself is avoid emotional displays and everyone trying to convince her to stay. Stefan will be okay, he knows she loves him, she has no doubt he will wait for her to return once it is safe. If it ever is safe.

Damon interrupts her inner-peptalk, "One more condition. No acting in a way that puts either your life or 'sanctity' in danger from me. This is the only time I will say this, it's up to you to take responsibility for ensuring your safety around me."

Quirking an eyebrow, she asks, "Does that mean no sexy negligees?"

She enjoys the way he gapes at her, and giggles at his scowl when he realises she is joking.

"Be warned, you're already skating a thin line when it comes to that condition." She stops laughing when she hears the serious note in his voice.

"Okay…sorry. Just trying to lighten the mood I guess." She shrugs apologetically.

"I think the mood is rather fitting to the occasion actually."

"Right," she reluctantly agrees, slightly annoyed that he is being so stern.

"Any more questions or comments?" He asks her sarcastically.

"When are we leaving?"

.

.

.

As soon as she steps outside into the still dark early morning she is soaked through again. Damon has already rushed by her with their bags, and is sitting in the front seat, completely dry, when she opens the passenger door. He is observing his right hand closely, and it would appear from the small lumps in his palm that the wounds have healed with shards of glass still in them. She winces at the thought.

"Are you okay?" She asks, loudly so as to be heard over the deafening sound of rain on the car roof.

"What was condition one, Elena?" He asks back dryly, but when she glances up at his face she is amazed to see he is smiling at her, albeit in a slightly nasty way. She sighs and looks away from him, out the window. She realises she is probably being complete insane agreeing to all his conditions. She has relinquished all control to a vampire. One she thought she knew but isn't so sure she knows _at all_ now. She still trusts him though. She can't _not_ trust him, even though she knows with every fibre in her body that she definitely shouldn't. That's why she's still here. She trusts him to protect her life, and she does not believe he could actually _be_ the threat to her life. She thinks back to what she has been forcing herself not to think about. _He loves her._ He can say what he will, but if she knows anything about the power of love, she knows he won't harm her.

And she really _should_ know something about the power of love. Or she wouldn't be sitting in this car, about to leave behind everything she knows, with Damon Salvatore.

.

.

.

She tries not to think of Aunt Jenna when the pass the turnoff to her street, tries not to think of her friends when they pass the High School, eerie in the dim light of the morning, tries not to think of Stefan the whole time they speed quietly out of the town. This will be the hardest part, she tells her self as she stops fighting and lets the heavy tears roll down her face. It is so easy to lie to her self.

If Damon notices, he does not say anything. His face is grim.

Trying to take her mind off the feeling of finality she is experiencing, she leans forward and turns the car's CD player on, hoping Damon won't make any 'conditions' about listening to music.

She smiles slightly in spite of herself when the tinny sound of Jimmy Eat World begins to play through the car's speakers.

"A little melodramatic, don't you think?"

"Kind of suits your situation, don't you think?" he counters immediately, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Maybe if it was still 2002", she mutters under her breath, but knows from the dirty look he gives her that he heard.

"You'd do well to just shut up right now."

She crosses her arms and stares out the window at the trees blurring past. She supposes she should get used to him being so cold, but a part of her had hoped he would go back to being a little like his old self once they got on the road. The old Damon could take a joke. He was usually the one making them.

.

.

.

They have already been driving for three hours before Elena realises she has no idea where they are going. She can't bring herself to care. In any case it's probably safer she doesn't know. They stop twice throughout the day, the first time because she needs to go to the bathroom. He sighs so angrily when she asks him to pull over, that she regrets saying anything. But when she begins to tell him not to worry about it he gives her a very strange look and skids to a halt in a gravelled road lip.

The second time they stop for food. It is well past midday and although Elena hasn't said anything, he knows she must be hungry; she's eaten nothing all day. And he's starting to feel a bit peckish too.

They get out of the car and begin to walk towards the roadside diner together, but then without any word he swerves away from her and heads down the side of the building. She continues into the restaurant alone, tries not to think about what is happening. As she is chewing her bacon she glances out the grimy window and spots him talking to a middle age blonde woman, alone in an otherwise deserted car park. He seems to be pretending to be lost. She turns her head away, gulps her coffee to force the food down, and ignores the looks of a seedy truck driver sitting at the table across from her.

When she finally leaves the diner he is already sitting in the drivers seat, waiting for her. She slides in silently, avoids his gaze.

He tries not to, but he can't help it. "You okay?" _Jesus,_ didn't he promise himself he wouldn't do this? He makes himself think it will be the last time.

She finally looks at him, sees a fleck of blood on his neck, and still can't meet his eyes.

"I will be."

He gives her a small smile, but then his face is stony again, as if the smile was never there. The car pulls away so quickly she lurches back in the seat.

.

.

.

It has been dark for hours by the time he finally spots a motel that suits him and swerves in. When he turns off the engine he looks over and is somewhat surprised to find her asleep, her head resting in the gap between the car seat and the window in a way that looks very uncomfortable. Her mouth is slightly open, and she looks very young. He on the other hand feels very old sitting there watching her, mesmerised by the gentle rise and fall of her chest, the barely discernable flickering of her closed eyelids. The jealousy that threatens him is overpowered by his eagerness to just _watch_, to drink her visible aliveness in.

It is painful, but in a different way to when they were in Mystic Falls. She is with him, she has chosen this, and it numbs the hurt just a little.

And he doesn't have to wish he wasn't the guy who leans over her and wakes her up with the feeling of his fangs sharp against her neck. She jerks awake, which pushes them in and grazes them down the skin of her shoulder, drawing blood. The smell of fear fills the car. Her eyes are wide, she stares at his transformed face, so close to hers. When she realises it is him, he is annoyed to find that she is no longer scared, and growls in the back of his throat. She simply sighs, reaches under his torso, unlocks her seat belt and gets out of the car. She is in the motel office while he is still frozen where he was. _Not _okay. Now he is just embarrassed. And hungry. Stupid bitch.

The office door has a little bell that jingles when he enters, playing with his nerves. She is looking listlessly through a wall of pamphlets, obviously waiting for him to deal with the room, while the woman behind the desk gives him a fake smile and asks him how she can help him this evening.

He does not pay for the room. When Elena turns around he is gone, and the woman is right behind her, holding out the key with a blank expression on her face.

She finds their room alone, and tries not to think about the car being gone. She doesn't turn on the lights, just leaves the door unlocked and makes her way to the minibar, easily swallowing back the vodka she finds there, to try to quell the panic that is rising in her. The alcohol is well imbedded in her system, making her veins feel light, but her heart feel heavy, before she lets herself cry. She thinks he has changed his mind, has left her here to find her own way home, just like he threatened. She can't figure out what she has done _already_ to violate his conditions, and she the thought of going back to Mystic Falls without him makes her feel a bit sick (well, she chooses to think it is the thought, and not the alcohol, making her stomach turn).

She finally passes out, leaning against the humming refrigerator, dried tear tracks lacing themselves down her cheeks in a way he finds strangely beautiful when he finds her there. She does not feel his fingers ghost across her forehead, or hear his whispered "I'm sorry", as he places her gently between the sheets. And for that he is glad.

.

.

.

She wakes up in the morning hung over, and with a stale, self-deprecating taste in her mouth she remembers from mornings before her parents died. She winces at the light pouring in through the gaps in the blind, and groans upon seeing the empty bottles lined up neatly by the door. She really _did_ go all out. However, there's no way, in her state, that she is responsible for the bottles being so neatly presented, and it is with a rush of relief, and something else she can't pin down, that she identifies Damon's body on the bed next to hers. He has his back to her, and she drags herself out of her bed and tiptoes to the bathroom without trying to see his face. She doesn't know whether to be ashamed of herself, or just angry with him for driving her to it. But there is no use being angry with someone who doesn't care, who if anything _wants_ her to be angry, so she settles on shame and has a shower that doesn't make her feel any less dirty.

When she emerges again he is sitting on his bed, staring at the wall.

"Sorry, did I wake you?"

He doesn't move. "No. I wasn't asleep."

"Oh." She walks gingerly to her bed, dressed again in yesterday's jeans and top, her hair wet and tangled. Her change of clothes is in the car, which she presumes is parked outside their motel room. She feels like she should say something, but she doesn't think he expects an apology. She hopes he understands it was something she just had to get out of her system.

"If you just toss me the keys I can get some fresh clothes out of the car and we can get going."

He throws a car key, attached to a leather Lexus key ring, in her direction. It is not the key to his car. She picks it up off the floor tentatively.

Her breath escapes her in a little whoosh when she opens the door to their room. He is immediately behind her, she can sense his body millimetres from hers, feel his words tickle her ear when he leans in and whispers,

"Much better, right?"

She takes in the very shiny, very black, _very expensive_ car now parked outside.

She swallows. "Right."

She never asks where the new car came from, but she has to fight back the bile that rises in her throat when she opens the glove box a few days later, and finds a picture of a young man smiling at the camera. The little girl sitting in his lap has her father's eyes.

She gets drunk that night, too. The next day the picture is gone, replaced by toffees and a roadmap she never sees him use.

.

.

.

I can't help it baby, this is who I am  
Sorry, but I can't just go turn off how I feel  
You kill me, you build me up, but just to watch me break  
I know what I should do, but I just can't walk away

Music: Noah and the Whale - Shape of my Heart & Jimmy Eat World - Kill.


	3. one hand on the devil

Sorry this one took so long to get out guys! I rewrote it several times as I wasn't sure about the direction to take. I know a lot of you like the darkness of Damon in the past two chapters (so do I), so there will likely be more of that later. This is more a chance to show Elena's thoughts etc etc. Inspired by Elena "workin' that up-do" in the last episode. Hope you like it (the chapter, not Elena's ponytail).

We're too far out we're in too deep  
And we've got miles to go before we can sleep  
I said, we've been walking a thin line  
You've got one hand on the devil baby and one hand in mine  
But don't let go no it's not too late you know

He is somewhere in this dreadful town feeding. He doesn't tell her when he leaves, and she never asks when he eventually returns. The day before he had come back injured, wood splintered in his upper arm. As she had carefully removed the pieces, which Damon had only agreed to extremely reluctantly, she had opened her mouth and begun to ask what had happened.

He had interrupted her before she could finish.

"Ask me no questions, and I'll tell you no lies." He said in a rough, strange tone.

She had thought he was angry, but when she looked up at his face she only saw pain. He didn't want to have to lie to her, but he couldn't tell her the truth.

She wonders, as she sips absentmindedly on her drink, how much longer she'll be able to bear not knowing. Whether her act is of not caring is still even a little bit convincing.

She is sitting in a bar that reminds her so much of The Grill that she gets to thinking about home. It is something she hasn't allowed herself to do properly since they left. She had thought she was doing this to protect herself from the sadness that would accompany the memories, but now, as she lets herself dwell on it, she realises that she's doesn't feel the way she expected to feel. She misses Jeremy and Aunt Jenna, sure, and she worries about what their reaction has been to her disappearance, but she's not _sad_ about leaving anymore. This fact comes as both a relief and a surprise to Elena.

She had convinced herself that leaving was a sacrifice, something she _had_ to do to protect those she loved. And in many ways it was. But she is beginning to realise that in other ways it really wasn't. She wasn't intending to leave that night. Running had never even crossed her mind, until Damon appeared in her room. She tries to pretend that she made the decision after he left, completely unrelated to anything he said. That him telling her he was leaving just made her realise that was what she had to do as well. But that's not the truth. The truth is she knew she was leaving with him from the moment he told her he loved her.

She's not here just to protect her family. Despite his conditions warning her to do the exact opposite…she's here to protect _him_.

She sculls back the rest of her gin and tonic, finds herself smiling back at the barman who refills her glass. He's cute. He would've been just her type a few years back. She's not sure why he's not anymore. Maybe he still is…

She is about to test this theory out when she catches sight of a picture of her own face, looking about 14 years old, and the words 'kidnapping', 'disappearance', 'suspicious', on the TV in the corner of the bar.

Oh, _fuck. _

As she makes her way quickly out of the bar, face down; it strikes her as slightly funny that she didn't think this might happen. Even Stefan, who knows her 'situation', probably wouldn't suspect that she would up and leave in the night, not saying goodbye, and with Damon no less. She hopes he doesn't think Damon has taken her against her will, although at this stage it seems likely.

She emerges into the quiet night and glances to the car, but he is still not back. She needs to find him, they need to leave now and make a plan. But she has no idea where he has gone. The bar is the only place still open on the street, the way the music follows her out onto the street is so typically ominous that makes her shiver. She wants to go back into the warmth and relative normalcy, but can't assume that the few people in there haven't now seen the news story.

And, _damn it_, it's cold. She is wearing the same black rain jacket she left in, over two layers of thermal type fabric, but it's not nearly enough. She's not quite sure where exactly they are; the towns they stop in are so small that none of their names are familiar to her. But it is a mountainous area, and they are nearing the snow line. She begins to walk, in a half-hearted effort to keep warm while also keeping an eye out for potential vampire attraction spots.

The music from the bar slowly fades out, replaced only by the sound of an eerie wind that blows straight down the deserted main street. She tucks her hair behind her ears and down the back of her jacket, eyeing the side street she is approaching.

When she turns the bend she is confronted by the sight of a truck pulled onto the side of the road, it's driver leaning out of the window to negotiate with a too-skinny woman wearing high heels and short skirt. The woman crosses to the passenger side and climbs up into the cab, the truck is pulling away before she has even shut the door.

She knows she will find him here. It is only slightly painful for her to acknowledge this. It should be harder, but she has allowed a numbness to settle over and around her, protecting her from what she does know of Damon's actions. She can put two and two together, while still somehow ignoring the four.

The street is completely silent now, but she can see the silhouette of a woman at the other end of the street, waiting. Elena bows her head and begins to walk slowly down the sidewalk. When she hears scuffling in an alley ahead, she stops. She is filled with a sudden fear, but of what she is unsure. She finds herself hoping in vain that Damon will _sense_ that she is here, that he will find her before she finds him. And then she realises that _God,_ she is _so_ fucking weak.

The thought makes her mad. She will not allow herself to be such a victim anymore. She is on a road trip with a mass-murdering vampire. This is what she signed up for. Now she needs to get over herself and _find_ him, so they can get the fuck out of here and deal with this whole 'kidnapping' situation.

She steels herself, musters her courage, and pulls that manufactured numbness tightly around her.

But what she finds in the alley steals her resolve right from under her feet, drawing the breath from her lungs, leaving her eyes wide, her limbs frozen. He has the woman, presumably a prostitute, trapped against the brick wall. The faint glow of a distant streetlight is enough to allow Elena to see the woman's petite frame crushed by Damon's, her arm twisted and reaching into his pants, his hips rocking, his head in her neck. She must make some kind of noise, because Damon's head suddenly whips up, meeting her eyes for only a second before her eyes drop to the dark blood dripping from his jaw onto the woman's shredded neck. She knows instinctively that this is an abnormally messy feed. Or perhaps it is Damon's usual way.

Within a second he has dropped the woman's body to the ground and stands before Elena, blocking her view. She blinks the tears that have risen unexpectedly from her eyes, and wills herself not to be sick in front of him. She can tell he is angry. Actually, furious. As he glowers at her, his chest heaving for some reason, she feels a different kind of numbness come over her.

She can't decide who should be apologising. He is compelling and draining a prostitute. She's not supposed to see him like this. He's not supposed to care if she does. She's not supposed to feel so surprised.

She begins to feel almost giddy, he body has the sensation of being increasingly light, and as dizziness riddles her senses she wonders if he realises his fly is still open. He catches her elbow as she begins to fall, heaves her upright, and leans her limp body against the wall.

She watches with half-lidded eyes as Damon crouches beside the woman, looking deeply into her glassy eyes as his lips move. He gives the woman his blood to heal her wound, and compels her to forget everything. Elena can't help but wonder if he is only granting these courtesies because she is watching. Can't help but wonder if she has accidentally saved the prostitute's life.

He is silent as he practically drags her back to the car, his hand crushingly tight around her arm. She stumbles a few times, but his stony face ignores her frowns and muttered protests. Her skin is clammy under his fingers but he is not in the mood to be concerned.

He tosses her into the car roughly, she yelps when he slams the door hard, narrowly missing her fingers. She takes a deep breath and allows the cold air that fills her lungs to calm her. As she feels the tendrils of dizzy helplessness and the sick feeling in her stomach slowly leaving her body, she allows her self to relax back in the seat. She watches him as he uses a water bottle to wash the blood off his face, feels her throat constrict with an emotion she is not familiar with.

Damon recognises the symptoms of shock, and as he walks around to the driver's side, wiping his face dry with the back of his hand, he has to concede that he cannot blame her. But the point is that she shouldn't have been there. He has been thoroughly irritated by the interruption.

As he drives away, he cannot help but speed, the adrenaline of anger and unsatisfied arousal still cursing through him. He cannot identify _why_ he is so angry, it's not supposed to be his problem if she sees something she doesn't like.

After a few minutes he becomes aware of her staring at him in a rather disconcerting way. He has no idea what she is thinking.

"Don't expect any apology."

"I'm not expecting anything", she admits. It is the truth. It makes him angrier.

"What the _hell _were you doing there Elena? You were supposed to wait in the bar." His voice is tense; he changes gear roughly, grating the motor. She watches his jaw clenching and unclenching with a strange interest, but looks away when she remembers exactly why she _did _go looking for him.

"We've got a problem -"

He shoots her a sharp look and quickly interrupts her.

"We've got lots of problems."

She rolls her eyes.

"Alright. What was so urgent that you couldn't wait till when I got back to the car?" He asks begrudgingly.

"I've been reported missing. It was on the television in the bar. With my picture."

Damon's mouth makes a silent 'Oh', and he slows over to pull the car onto to the side of the road.

He turns in his seat to face her full on, contemplates her worried expression. Despite her initial reaction to finding him in such an…'intimate' position, he is relieved to note that she has managed, for now, to hide her feelings, in order to concentrate on the matter at hand.

"You didn't leave a note?"

"You didn't tell me to."

"_Jesus_, Elena, I shouldn't have to tell you everything! Some things are just common sense. It wasn't my responsibility." He is exasperated, but she can see he is not truly angry. It is just another difficulty they don't need right now.

"It's not like I had time to plan it!"

He sighs loudly, runs a hand through his dishevelled hair.

"Well, we have to fix this. It's going to be an enormous pain in my arse if I have to keep stopping a long the way to compel people into 'unremembering' the kidnapped girl they just saw."

She is shaking her head.

"No. _I_ have to fix this. No one can know you're with me. They have to believe I'm on my own." This time it is Damon who rolls his eyes.

"Great plan, Elena", he drawls sarcastically, "why on earth would they believe you've just gone for a little holiday by yourself, and _not_ send you straight back to your guardian? You're _underage_, running away is an offence."

She looks at him for a long moment; the tension of unspoken words hangs in the air between them. He's not quite sure what _her_ unspoken words are, but they would probably have something to do with hypocrisy, and all _his _offences.

"You're severely underestimating me." She says, finally, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Tomorrow morning, next town we get to, you'll drop me off and go do your _thing_ while I go to the police station and sort this out. I've had time to think about it, I know what to say." He raises his eyebrows at her before turning the engine back on. "Just trust me." He turns back to look at her, finds her eyes boring into his.

"Your funeral baby" he replies as he tries to hide his smile. He kind of likes bossy Elena.

.

.

.

"You do realise that if you _aren't_ alone, whoever is with you can be charged with the offence of contributing to the delinquency of a minor?"

Elena glared at the police officer sitting opposite her.

"Yes, as you've already told me that. Three times. And I've already told you I'm on my own three times. How can I convince you I'm telling the truth?"

She watched as his pen scrawled across the pad in front of him briefly, before he turned to his computer and pulled up her information.

"Okay…even though you've come to us willingly, it is still my obligation to get in touch with your guardian, which I take it is your Aunt?" He squinted at the computer and she glanced at him writing down her home phone number. She remained quiet. "Now, I know it's not what you want, but there are support services in place to make sure you are safe and happy at home. I will be arranging your transport back into your Aunt's custody. Running away isn't the answer, Elena." He was trying to look meaningfully into her eyes, trying to play the supportive cop, but Elena just smiled coolly.

"Um, actually, Aunt Jenna isn't my guardian." The officer's face dropped slightly.

"Really? Since when?"

"Since I found my birth father." Elena tried to feign convincing happiness at this fact. "John Gilbert. I'm on my way to see him now. I know I should've told someone when I left, but to be honest it was a shock, and I didn't know what to say to anyone. I didn't want to hurt Aunt Jenna's feelings..." The Officer looked confused, but sympathetic. She took it as a good sign. "He's in California," she continued before noticing his eyes narrow and realising her mistake just in time, "…but I thought I may as well have a little detour to see this part of the country while I'm already road tripping. It's just so beautiful." She smiled indulgently at him; he didn't have to know that she actually had no idea which state she was in right now.

"And does your birth father know you're coming?"

"Oh, yes. Once I arrive we're going to arrange transferring my guardianship to him. It's a complex situation but I'm certain he's who I need to be with right now. After I lost my parents…I felt so alone. But now, knowing I still have a chance of parents, family, well…I just couldn't wait to get going."

The officer gave her a long, heavy stare. She could tell he wasn't completely convinced. She wasn't too worried, hers _was_ a complex case, and knowing she was safe and happy would make it difficult for a small town cop like him to force her back to a guardian, over her real father.

She waited as he tapped his pen against the desk, flipping through the papers in front of him, glancing up at her face every now and then.

Finally, after several more questions and computer searches, he pulled a form up on the computer, printed it out and began to fill out it.

"You can go", Elena silently let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, " _but_ I require you to make a phone call to your Aunt to explain the situation first."

She sighed grumpily in the way she knew he would be expecting, but was smiling broadly inside. _See Damon, I can do __**some**__ things without your help._

Despite all her bravado, when she heard the sound of Jenna's tired voice, she felt tears prickle behind her eyes. She was aware of the Officer watching her as she told Jenna the same lies she had told him, hating herself for making her Aunt feel that she hadn't been an adequate parent, hating herself for telling her about John over the phone. When Jenna began to cry Elena said nothing, just let her own tears roll steadily, silently down her cheeks. Before she hung up she reassured her Aunt that she'd be in touch, that she'd stay safe, and that she'd call when she got to California.

She placed the phone gently in its cradle, slowly turned to face the suspicious gaze of the Officer.

"Can I go now?"

He reluctantly led her to the station door, and she thanked him in a way she hoped sounded genuine before walking down to the steps onto the street. She felt his eyes on the back of her head as she walked away, knew he wasn't convinced that she was alone. It didn't matter; they were leaving the town that afternoon, and she was a missing person no more.

.

.

.

Elena found a sticky note on the driver's window of their locked car. It was parked in a gravel field behind a row of shops off the main road.

_In the arcade. Come get me when you're done._

_D_

She was surprised (and slightly pleased, if she was being honest with herself) that he had not used this 'time off' to go hunting, but couldn't bring herself to join him quite yet. She pocketed the note and set off to explore the town. In some small way she wanted to justify what she had told the police officer, and 'enjoy this part of the country'.

Mostly though, she just wanted some time out to think, to digest all that had happened in the past week and, especially, the past day. It was becoming increasingly challenging to continue to 'obey' the conditions laid down by Damon at the beginning of their journey. Discovering him in the alley the night before had only cemented this fact. At the time Elena had focused on the (also very important) issue of her missing status to distract herself, to hide how she was really feeling from both herself and Damon. The truth was that when she had spoken to Jenna there had been a moment when she'd nearly told her Aunt that she had made a mistake, and that she was coming home.

She had tried not to let it get to her, but Elena was an emotional person. She craved the affection and company of other people. And Damon was hardly affectionate, or very good company, at present. Through most of the week he had been cold and distant, occasionally laughing with her but then the next moment snapping at her and disappearing again. When he reappeared he reminded her of when she first met him. Cocky, and friendly, but also fake. Like she didn't know him at all.

She wondered how it was that he was still succeeding in pushing her away, as he had originally intended by leaving, even though she had come with him. She bit her lip and sat down on a nearby park bench, watching clouds gather on the nearby mountains, parents ushering children off the playground and into cars, the slow decline of activity in the nearby square as the midday rush ended.

She thought back to the alleyway, and saw clearly in her mind the ripped flesh of the woman's neck, the harsh contrast between Damon's white teeth and the rich red of the blood in his mouth, the surprisingly _frightened_ look in those hardened eyes when he realised it was her.

And as they both would have expected, she had been scared, and shocked. But she was not terrified. She was not angry. In fact she had been awed and embarrassed (her face still flushed remembering the woman's hand working fast in his pants before her own presence was noticed). But she had also felt, she forced herself to acknowledge as she sat there, rather ludicrously _jealous_. A completely irrational part of her wondered why it hadn't been _her_. He had said he was going back to being the monster he was supposed to be. That he didn't care. He wasn't going to protect her any longer. But despite what he may like to think, he still _was _protecting her. Otherwise, why would he notuse _her_ for his blood fix? And Hell, why not his sexual fix?

And then, suddenly, it was very clear to her what should happen so they would both survive this journey together.

It was simple. He would feed on her. It was a win-win solution. He would get what he needed from a willing source, and she wouldn't have to feel so uncomfortable about him leaving a trail of death behind them. He would restore her energy and health with a little of his own blood, which would also ensure her safety were they to run into any danger down the line.

Elena stood up and stretched, sighing. He was never going to go for it.

.

.

.

It was a dimly lit arcade, empty and dirty, she could tell it was not the same popular spot it must have been in the 90's. The décor and games were all from that era. A few young boys played games together near the entrance, and she smiled at them as they handled the game controls without even glancing down at them. She found Damon at the very back, in a cramped corner where the smell of old carpet and rubber was strongest. He was completely engaged in the zombie killing game in front of him, and for a few seconds she allowed herself to watch him silently, noticing his half open mouth and sparkling eyes, the way he brandished the plastic gun as if it were real. It was a rare moment when she was able to catch a bittersweet glimpse of how he must've been when he was human, and his boyish excitement for life, before it was stolen from him.

"Zombies, huh? Interesting choice."

He shot her a wide grin and she was surprised by how emotional she suddenly felt. He rarely smiled like that, and it filled her with warmth to see it.

"There's a Buffy game over there, you should give it a go," he laughed, nodding his head behind him while continuing to ruthlessly kill onscreen zombies. "It might be good practice." She just smiled in reply and moved to stand beside him, observing the game with interest.

"I've never actually played one of these before."

She frowned at him as he pretended to choke in shock. "What? I'm the home-entertainment generation!"

He turned to her as 'Game Over' flashed across the screen.

"Oh kid, you've been missing out."

.

.

.

As they walked out of the arcade a couple of hours later, Elena couldn't believe the Damon she had just witnessed as he taught her to play a variety of arcade games. He had smiled warmly at her excitement when she killed anything, and chuckled when she sulked over losing, even letting her win a few times when she pouted at him. Her stomach had clenched in an embarrassingly pleasant way when he ghosted his hands over hers as he taught her the controls, making her glad he was standing behind her and couldn't see her blush. They finally left after Damon wrestled the gun out of her hands when she got slightly 'over-excited' playing Vampire Night – protesting playfully that he felt uncomfortable with her increasing skills.

For the first time since they had left Mystic Falls she felt like she was with her friend again.

He turned and regarded her when she stopped walking on their way back to the car.

"What is it?" He asked casually.

"That was…fun."

He chuckled, she thought she could get used to the sound. "Well, yeah. That's the idea."

"I've never seen you like that before." She said carefully.

He frowned a little, but then smiled. "To be fair, I've never really seen _you_ like that before either."

Elena realised this was true. Since the Salvatore's had come into her life she had hardly been fun and games to be around. She grinned playfully and looked up at him, batting her eyelids.

"I've got a new condition."

Damon's eyebrows rose, "Oh, really?"

"Every town we stop in, we have to do something fun, like this." She gestured back at the arcade. "When I was at the police station-"

"I take it that went well?" Damon interrupted, seeming to have only just remembered that was where she had been.

"Yes, sort of. I had to talk to Jenna." Damon nodded. " And to be honest Damon, I wanted to tell her I was coming home." His smile faded.

"But now, after that, I don't. Damon, both of us need to be doing this, for our various reasons. But I don't know how long I'm going to last when I'm so unhappy. Until this afternoon I've felt so cut off from you…" She trailed off as he took a step towards her, breathed in sharply when he brushed a piece of hair off her face and looked earnestly down into her eyes.

"Given that you _can't_ go home, I am inclined to agree with your new condition. It'd probably be good for both of us."

"What do you mean I can't go home?" Elena demanded. Damon realised his mistake and inwardly kicked himself. She wasn't supposed to find out yet, it would only make her anxious and annoying.

"You've broken your promise with Klaus. He has people out hunting for you."

"Are you sure?"

"I fought one of them the other day, hence the wood in my arm. I killed him, so we're safe for now. But it's no longer realistic for you to go home, he'd find you immediately, and then…I don't know what he'd do to you."

"Is my family going to be okay?" Elena's voice was urgent. She felt a bit disgusted with herself for not realising that breaking her promise with Klaus could be more dangerous than staying.

"They'll be fine, I think. There's been no sign of trouble yet." Damon replied, his hand still gently touching the side of her face. "If he was going to kill them out of anger he would've done it by now."

Elena narrowed her eyes.

"You've been talking to Stefan." Damon looked away, his fingers withdrew from her skin as if they'd been burnt, and he straitened up brusquely.

"I'm not going to discuss this." He turned and walked quickly to the car. Elena jogged after him, catching his arm as he got into the driver's seat.

"But-"

"You can't go home. Your family is safe. That's all you need to know. Now, let go of my arm, and get in the car so we can reach another town before dark." She rolled her eyes.

"Fine."

She couldn't help but notice the way his eyes tracked her intensely as she stalked around to the other side of the car.

"You're so melodramatic," Elena grumbled as she buckled her seat belt and he drove out of the lot, "You've got mood swings like a fucking teenage girl."

He grinned wryly at her. "How ironic."

In the night-time we are found  
Misty sorrow, swoop unbound  
Whisper you mean it, say you'll stay  
Hold my heart till brighter days

Is Elena seriously going suggest Damon feed on her? I hope so, my Elena is a rrreckless bitch. **Love** it when she brings the sass.

Oh and to the reviewer who worried about Damon finding out Elena plans to go back to Stefan...that will totally never happen. Just one of those things that delusional Elena told herself to make herself feel better ;) I think the fact that she left with _Damon_ pretty much sunk that Stefan ship.

Songs: Thriving Ivory - Where We Belong. Bat for Lashes - Good Love.


	4. turning into the light

So, I know it's been a month (a month!) since I last updated and I'm really sorry about that. I have had a multitude of complications and changes in my life in the past few weeks, including the recent earthquake so had neither opportunity to write, nor internet to upload, this next chapter. But here it is now, and I hope you enjoy the direction it's taking - let me know. (sorry it's short)

Turning away from the light  
Becoming adult  
Turning into myself  
I wanted to bite not destroy  
To feel her underneath  
**Turning into the light**

Damon gripped the steering wheel tightly, turning too sharply around corners as they wove through the surrounding forest. He could see the sun setting in the rear view mirror, casting the road with the dim, and admittedly very pretty, light of dusk. Elena was dozing, her body twisted in her seat to face him. He could not help himself from glancing over at her prone body every so often, taking in her serene face, the way her small hands curved around the edges of the seat.

How young and vulnerable she looked. She _was_ young and vulnerable, he reminded himself. Most of the time she hid it so carefully, fooling him with her patronising tone, her woman's body, those tempting glimpses into her devilish history. But he was always reminded when he had the opportunity to watch her sleep. The age difference between them seemed to stretch eternally as her youth was exposed. Or maybe it was the other way around, he realised. Watching her made him feel old. Inadequate.

No other human being could make him feel anything; it didn't seem fair that _this_ one could.

He scowled and drove faster, where was the next Goddamn town? He was not hungry, although this was what he told himself. Feeding on humans wasn't a dietary once a day necessity, but it very quickly became an addiction. Not the way it filled him or gave him energy, but the way it pulled him back to the present, reminded him who he was. Particularly after an unusually pathetic few hours of teaching Elena to play arcade games and gazing at her sleeping face. _Not very badass vampire behaviour, Damon. _

Yeah – he needed to kill something.

The air conditioning woke Elena when the sky was already black. Damon had apparently not noticed how cold the car had become, and he didn't move a muscle in his face when she reached over his hand on the gear stick to turn the temperature down.

The car was very dark, it was a moonless night, and she saw no other cars on the road. She let herself wonder where they were, and where they were going. She had assumed Damon had a plan, but as the days went on she became less certain. She had discerned that they were heading north, the days were getting colder, and the landscape was becoming more remote.

Elena glanced at Damon's face, noticing for the first time how tired he looked, dark smudges set firmly below his glassy red eyes.

"How far to the next town?"

"Don't rightfully know", Damon answered ruefully, "It's been a while…"

"You've been this way before?"

Damon frowned and shifted in his seat before replying. "Over 70 years ago now."

"Shall I get the map out then?"

"Not unless _you_ noticed the name of the last town we were in."

Elena was silent for a few minutes, glancing over at him worriedly every now and then. He seemed very tense. She would be happy for Damon to just pull over so they could both sleep, but as she thought about it, she realised that he was likely more in a rush for blood than a bed. She tugged down the sleeves of her thermal, feeling increasingly cold despite turning off the air conditioning. She had not wanted to bring up her suggestion so soon, before she had time to think it through, but the next town could be hours away.

"You look very…tired." She tried to sound casual, and very _un_concerned, but knew immediately she had failed.

"I haven't slept in over a week." Damon admitted, sounding a little annoyed nevertheless.

Elena was rendered speechless, a sight that nearly made Damon laugh when he looked over at her.

"Relax, we vampires don't need sleep in the same way that humans do."

"I know _that,_ but I also know a week is still a very long time to go with out _any _sleep for you. You forget I dated Stefan…"

He narrowed his eyes, attempting to shut down the little man doing a dance in his head when he heard her refer to being with Stefan in past tense. At the same time, he'd rather she didn't remind him that she _ever _dated his brother.

"It's fine, Elena. I'm fine."

"I think you should-"

"I do what I like. You don't get a say in it."

"But-"

"Have you forgotten our conditions," he interrupted again, "or do you just naively assume that thing's are comfortable enough between us again to be bringing this shit up?" He was suddenly angry, his tone scathing. He caught Elena's confused and hurt look, but she didn't reply.

"Because they're not."

He continued to drive, increasingly recklessly, feeling an uncontrollable and irrational anger build. He knew it was only a stupid little thing that she cared about anyway, but this was supposed to be _his_ trip. And what she didn't know was that her being here, sleeping in the bed next to him every night, was precisely what was preventing him getting any sleep at all. So fuck that if he was going to let her lecture him in her gentle little voice about the benefits of getting some shuteye.

He was snapped out of his spiralling thought process by the sound of Elena's surprisingly cold, tightly controlled voice.

"Would you pull over please?"

"What?" He exclaimed incredulously. "Why?"

"Right. Now." Her voice was low and she was enunciating. Not a good sign, he thought as he rolled his eyes and swerved the car smoothly onto the narrow grass strip by dense forestry.

Without the sound of the car's engine the silence was suddenly very thick. Damon couldn't believe he felt awkward; it was not exactly a common feeling for him.

"We need to get some things very straight Damon. I _know_ the conditions that were set. But I'm not happy with them anymore."

Damon clenched his jaw and stared heatedly at her.

"I think it's only fair that I express my concern, if whatever I'm worried about is affecting _me._ I get that you don't want me to "care" about you." Her voice went quiet. "But you must know that I will _always_ care about you. And I'm doing my best not to show that because I know that you can't…handle it right now." Damon raised his eyebrows and she restored the authoritative tone to her voice.

"But when your sleep deprivation, and resulting moods, start to impact on my safety and ability to remain sane," she smiled wearily, "I expect to be allowed to voice my opinion."

"And that's all fine, Elena. Truly, I understand where you're coming from." Elena couldn't prevent the look of surprise that jumped to her face, but he knew his probably looked just as shocked. "_But_ you need to realise you're preaching to the converted. I would just love to get some sleep. But, ironically, your presence, both physical and in my mind, makes that rather difficult."

He studied Elena's frowning face.

"I'm not sure I actually want to know the answer to this, but…why?"

Damon smiled dryly, there was something both scary and amusing in her naivety.

"Oh, a mixture of things really." He waved his hand in the air, and continued on rashly, "The scent of you, permanently betraying the heat of your blood, and the sound of your breathing, not to mention your small moans and whimpers, as you sleep."

Elena interrupted him. "You're telling me you can't sleep because of your sexual frustration? Really?"

"No! And it's called bloodlust…" Damon replied sulkily. "Mainly it's just hard to relax when I know I'm responsible for the Original's most wanted human." He admitted reluctantly, although Elena seemed not to have heard what he said.

"So you _are_ lusting after my blood…" She said slowly, almost to herself. It was Damon's turn to be confused.

"I'm a vampire…what did you expect?" Elena was not able to pretend to be surprised that the gentle ache low in her abdomen, which had first emerged when he mentioned 'moans and whimpers', became stronger.

"So you want to drink my blood?"

Damon frowned slightly at her.

"Physically, yes. In every other sense, no. What are you getting at?"

"I thought you only cared about physical instinct now."

He curled his lip at the suggestive tone in her voice. What the fuck was she playing at? _Obviously_ he still cared about more than just his vampire urges, when it came to _her _anyway, but this was supposed to be an unspoken fact.

"You're treading an extremely thin line right now Elena", Damon forced out.

"So what? If we keep going the way we have been we're going to reach a stale mate pretty soon. And I think I've found a way to avoid that happening."

"And what **exactly** is that way?" His voice was icy to hide the heat that he felt building inside him. She better not be about to fucking suggest what he thought she was.

"Your bloodlust prevents you from sleeping. If I let you feed on me," she gulped as Damon's eyes widened, "maybe you could relax a little more. There wouldn't be this constant awkwardness between us. I wouldn't have to be alone for hours, trying not to think about what you're doing at that moment. Because the reality is that I don't _want_ to ask you to change, or to stop killing. But maybe if you used me, just while we're in this together, I wouldn't have to live with the guilt of doing nothing to prevent these people's deaths, for the rest of my life."

She paused to take a deep breath before barrelling on. "And it has other benefits as well. Once you're taken my blood, then you can give me some of your own, to…restore me. This may be a dangerous road, and who knows if or when Elijah will find us. Having your blood in my system…well, it would be like a safety net. I don't want to be turned, but if it's between that and death then…I know what my choice will be."

Adrenaline was shooting through Elena's body, and she felt strangely exhilarated. She had not planned the speech, she hadn't known, until the words came out of her mouth, what she really needed to say. She allowed her eyes to drift, from where they had been focused on her wringing hands, up to Damon's face, and had to look away again immediately when she saw the intensity there. She could not read his expression. It was extremely hard to tell if it was one of fury, desire, or shock. She imagined it was probably all three.

The tension was practically drifting off Damon's body as he forced himself not to launch himself at her, even as he struggled to remember _why _he was resisting. She had just given him a great big, glaring green light. Why did he still have his foot on the brake?

He stared at her, could hear her heartbeat so painfully loud it felt like it was his own. He turned abruptly in his seat, put his head on the steering wheel and took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm down. She could not notice his face transforming or he knew he would lose this battle.

God _damn_ her naivety. She did not understand the complications of what she was asking in the _least. _How did a conversation about being _tired_ turn into _this?_ He groaned. Oh right, because **he** was stupid enough to tell her he couldn't sleep for lusting after her blood.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Elena." His voice was ragged. She had to admit she was confused by his reaction.

"It's not like I haven't done this before Damon."

"Giving a few drops of blood to Stefan was _nothing_," Damon spat out, "compared to what me feeding on you would be like."

"I trust you."

Hearing these words was enough to push Damon over the edge. He turned to face her, braced one arm on her seat and leaned in close.

"You fucking _shouldn't._" She couldn't help but gasp and recoil at the sight of his face, his fangs so close, his eyes so hard.

"That's _exactly_ what I thought." He said in a quiet, dangerous voice, and she winced at the disgust she saw in his eyes. Was he disgusted by her, or himself? Before she could find the words to say something, _anything Elena_, he was shoving the car into drive, and pulled away, the tires squealing.

.

.

.

Elena took another swig of the ready-made can of gin and tonic she'd found in the motel room's minibar.

She didn't like gin and tonic much, but she'd finished all the vodka and cokes and could no longer taste its bitterness anyway. She glanced at the clock radio from her bed, where she leaned against the headboard. Just past four in the morning. They'd been lucky to find a motel, let alone one that was open, when they'd arrived an hour ago. Not that they'd mentioned that to each other. Damon had said nothing to her the whole time in the car, and had, as expected, left when they arrived, leaving her to find their room alone. His cold, distant eyes discouraged her from attempting any peace-making. It could wait till tomorrow. Or the next day.

She had tried to sleep, briefly, but couldn't stop going over what had happened in her head. She wasn't so much upset as she was pissed off. Not with Damon, with herself. She'd fucked it all up. Again. She should have brought it up differently, although she wasn't quite sure how exactly, or whether it would've made any difference. But then, she'd never expected it to go the way she'd hoped. He was too complex, the whole thing was too fucked. She was stupid for thinking that they could compartmentalise things if he _did_ drink her blood.

So she wasn't sleeping like she should've been (like he should've been too). Instead, here she was again, getting drunk alone in a seedy motel room meant for two. She really had to stop making a habit of this. At least she wasn't crying this time, she half smiled to herself. And she didn't even want to, which made for a change. She wasn't sad, just frustrated, and in more than one way. She hadn't had sex in weeks, and for reasons she didn't know, and even though it made her feel decidedly perverted, the earlier fight with Damon had left a persistent ache between her legs. She pressed her thighs together experimentally, and clenched with the surprisingly strong pleasure that shot through her. She groaned, annoyed. She wanted to touch herself, but hadn't exactly asked Damon for an estimated time of return. Him walking in on her would be awkward, and likely make a bad situation even worse.

She sighed and finished off the can before getting off the bed to grab another drink out of the fridge and turn on the television, hoping that maybe some inane infomercial watching would distract her from her arousal.

.

.

.

As Damon approached the motel room, he noticed the unmistakable flickering light of television through the gaps in the blinds. It was nearly six, what was she still doing up? He had really hoped she wouldn't be. He was feeling incredibly fucked off and was not up to another argument, sprinkled with some temptation, knowing his control was at its very limits.

He had walked the empty town, finding no bars open, no people on the streets, too cold and late in the night for feeding in this small town. As he continued to search in vain, anger and need built hotly in him. He _needed_ this damn it. Needed to escape from her words in his head, needed to drown out the thoughts of her blood with someone else's filling his throat.

It had reached the point where he had been about to head back to the motel room and just fucking _do it_, give her what she wanted before he went out of his mind. Something though, had made him stop, and he sat on the kerb under a street light near the motel for nearly an hour, breathing deep, manufactured breaths, forcing the cold air into his veins, and with it forcing some control.

The list of reasons why he _shouldn't _feed on Elena was still there, but he could no longer comprehend why those reasons meant anything.

Still, he knew the biggest flaw in her logic, knew why it simply couldn't happen, even though she may not, and that was what he held on to as he sat there. And it was with this in mind that he was able to convince himself that he would be able to return to the hotel, get into his own bed, lie awake for a few hours, and then in the morning sneak out quickly for a 'bite' before they left. Surely he could last a few hours in her sleeping company.

As soon as he'd realised the television was turned on, and heard the filtered noise of it coming under the door, he felt a slight feeling of dread rise, but steeled himself and unlocked the door. He could deal with this, it's not like he had to talk to her, he'd just ignore her and stick to the plan.

'The plan', went out the window as soon as he entered the hot room and stopped in his tracks at the sight in front of him.

The television provided the only light in the dark room, as well as the music a seemingly very intoxicated Elena was dancing to.

The music channel was playing drum and bass, appropriate for the early morning insomniac slot, and Elena had turned it up as loud as it could go.

The scent in the room hit him before he could even fully take in what he was seeing. The smell of alcohol, her sweat, her blood, and her _arousal_, all mixed together in a way that made his head spin and his face transform sooner than he could even try to stop it. His hands went into hard fists by his sides as he continued to watch her, frozen.

She had her eyes closed, totally immersed in the music, one arm hung limply from the side of her swaying body, the other, holding her drink, was held slightly in the air. She was wearing nothing but underwear and a black singlet, and the faint bluish white light flashing on her toned olive-skinned body made Damon swallow hard. She hadn't noticed him come in yet, he could tell she was in her own world, and he allowed his eyes to track the movements of her body as she slowly danced. When he returned his gaze to her face he was alarmed to find she was looking at him through hooded eyes. Her face showed no emotion, but she stopped dancing and allowed her other arm to drop to her side, blinking at him.

He could feel his fangs pressing into his bottom lip, every muscle in his body tense, his cock pressing almost painfully hard against the material of his jeans.

For a few seconds they both just looked at each other, and then the hot need that Damon had tried so hard to keep down became unbearable, and his body propelled it's own self into action, no longer consulting what it obviously considered his irrational mind.

Elena felt Damon's body slam into hers before she could even register he'd moved, was splayed out on his bed beneath him before the pain from the impact hit her. She gasped, tried to draw breath into her lungs, feeling whiplashed and drunk and panicked and _unbelievably_ turned on.

She felt his breath cold against the hot skin of her neck and bit her lip. Was he actually going to do it? Right now? She hadn't imagined it like this. This was beginning to feel sexual, his hips feeling heavy on hers. She'd imagined a much more formal exchange, but in her current state was unable to think any more on it, especially when she felt him run the sharp tips of his fangs down the curve of her neck. She hissed with the painful pleasure of it, but he didn't look up. He didn't stop there either. Even though he'd drawn a light line of blood, he pulled back slightly and moved his mouth down her body, drawing his fangs and lips down the skin of her chest, shoving up her singlet to continue lightly down her stomach. It was all Elena could do to just lie there, every breath turning into a gasp, too drunk to be embarrassed by the way her hips jerked upward when his tongue touched her belly button.

The music in the background was still blaring but she barely even registered it as his breath hit her through her wet underwear, and then was gone. She lifted her head dizzily and was met with his burning gaze, his fangs millimetres from the skin so very close to the apex of her inner thighs. Very quickly his eyes cleared slightly, and he was suddenly looking at her earnestly, questioningly. He was asking her permission. She nibbled her lip, feeling suddenly nervous, and way out of her depth.

"Why there?" she asked quietly, breathlessly. He couldn't hear her over the music, but read her lips.

"You'll see." He replied lowly.

Elena glanced away, back up at the ceiling; unable to stand the intensity of emotions she couldn't read in his eyes. Then she nodded, almost imperceptibly.

Damon took a hand off her hip and reached up to intertwine his fingers with her own, conscious of the way her hand gripped onto his tightly, anchoring herself to him, before lowering his head to the warmth of her skin.

She don't think straight  
She's got such a dirty mind and it never ever stops  
And you don't taste like her and you never ever will  
And we don't read the papers, we don't read the news  
Heaven's never enough, we will never be fooled

Song: Banquet by Bloc Party.

Dubstep Elena is dancing to: .com/watch?v=maTcoGZ3feY

Apologies in advance for if next chapter takes a wee while to come out. I will try for it not to but I have recommenced university and my course is very demanding :\


	5. through this black maze

Well, what can I say, I'm so sorry? Eeek. I feel terribly guilty, and what's worse is that in all likelihood the gap between chapters is only going to happen again. It's not really something I can help right now, so for that reason the story is on hiatus for now. I wish it didn't have to be. But it's better than trying to make promises I may not be able to keep. I hope you like this chapter, I didn't really and I know it's very different direction to the rest of the story. Almost like a different story together, at least the end. But, yeah. I can never control my writing. _Loved_ the season finale - finally badass Stefan! And _jesus_ that kiss. Sigh.

Hope you guys can forgive me for being such a terrible and inconsistent updater. I will try to finish this story no matter how long it takes me.

Song: Pablo Blaqk "Find Your Way" - one of my favourite songs, I would strongly advise you take a listen while you read.

Open your heart open your soul  
And let me slide on in  
you are my love you are my light  
that always guides my way  
through this black maze of flesh and pain  
you always push me through  
if you fall fast love I'll carry you  
until it all comes shining through

She had been expecting pain, and maybe it was the alcohol, but she felt none as he sunk his teeth smoothly into her thigh. She felt the invasion though, and tensed, staring at the ceiling in a dreadful kind of anticipation. Several seconds passed and nothing happened. Her breaths came fast as she waited, trying not to think about how hard his free hand was pressing her thigh into the bed, how close that hand was to where her body really wanted it. She risked a glance down at him, her stomach lurching when she saw him looking back up at her, his lips to her skin, hiding where they were joined. He was completely still. She jutted her chin at him defiantly, hiding how vulnerable she felt. Her adrenaline, and an undeniable desire, overrode her fear and she glared back at him.

"Just fucking _do_ it, Damon." Her voice came out sounding far more desperate, and far less commanding, than she'd intended.

She was pleased to see a brief glimpse of the Damon she knew when his eyes widened briefly, before they narrowed again, and she felt the grip of his mouth tighten in her. After that she saw no more.

She was falling. Something was pulling her hard, painfully, so fast she felt dizzy. There was a rushing sensation running through her _everywhere_ and her free hand clutched desperately at the bunched up sheet at her side, the other was entwined, white knuckled, with _his. _Her unseeing eyes closed against the low pain, which slowly ebbed away as her head lightened. She suddenly became aware the soft, rhythmic touch of Damon's thumb rubbing back and forth over her knuckles, soothing her. It followed the same rhythm of each draw he took from her, and she realised her own body was lifting slightly each time too, encouraging him.

It took only half a minute for the pain to reside completely, and for the pleasant rush of blood being pulled from her body to take over.

As Elena's hips began to surge more strongly upwards, Damon was forced to move his hand to her hip, holding her still. He'd never been so _present_ during a feed before. Even while her blood cursed hotly through him, his mind stayed sharp and controlled, unwilling to allow himself to get carried away. He knew it was a bad idea, but he wanted this to be good for her, _needed_ it to be, with a urgency he wasn't sure where came from. He would ideally like to be buried in her, drinking from her neck, but this wasn't about him. And even though he knew he would've have been able to show her, so much more effectively, how amazing this could be, he knew there was no way it was happening. Not yet, anyway. She wasn't prepared for that level of intimacy, would not allow it, and he could not bring himself to coerce her into it, despite the smell of her arousal betraying her. Still, as her hips continued to resist his restraint, he found himself toying with the edge of her panties, his fingertips touching her skin lightly while his palm stayed firm against her bone, fixing her to the bed.

Elena had been trying to ignore the arousal that had been building, in an entirely too strong way, but when he began to tease her, and she _knew_ he knew what he was doing, the rational part of her mind seemed to forfeit any control it'd had over the situation. As his fingers inched painfully slowly along the hem of her underwear, closer to where she was throbbing for him, she whimpered unwittingly. Damon faltered for a moment, before continuing with renewed confidence, drawing a particularly deep mouthful of blood at the same time, causing her to let out a low, keening moan. His fingers tucked under the material, stroking along the inside of her thigh slowly, leaving her gulping for breath, her body straining with an urgency Elena couldn't believe. He hadn't even touched her, but she could feel her clit swelling and her inner walls clenching as if he had.

And then, with a sudden decisiveness that made Elena shiver, Damon slipped his hand completely under the elastic and thrust two cool fingers into her. Before Elena could stop herself, she cried out his name, her hips moving roughly to draw him in further. He remained still for a moment and then began expertly pumping her and drinking from her at the same time. Elena clamped her eyes shut and gritted her teeth in an attempt to hold back her scream as she immediately came around his fingers, the sensation of him pulling her apart, in two ways at once, throwing her into oblivion. Damon roughly held her rocking hips still enough to continue drinking from her, alternating long, slow pulls with short violent ones, to match the movements of his fingers.

"Da-mon…oh fuck!"

He couldn't help but grin against her skin as she continued to come undone around him. He wanted to keep her going all night, but knew soon he would've been drinking from her too long for it to be safe. He refused to think about the implications of the sudden sense of responsibility he had for this girl. He knew doing this was probably an enormous mistake, but then; he'd already known that as he had watched the sensuous sway of her body from the motel room's doorway. Hell, being fucking honest, he'd known that since she'd stood in his bedroom, dripping wet, asking to leave with him. He couldn't pretend this trip was still just for him. He'd meant to leave behind his humanity. But now, with the rich, painful taste of her still in the back of his throat as he licked the remaining blood from around the two already healing marks in her thigh, he realised, this girl still shuddering lightly around his slowing fingers, _was_ his humanity.

When Elena finally woke she felt exactly the same as she had felt several years ago when she'd caught mono. Her whole body ached and splinters of pain swept through her when she moved each limb gingerly. She allowed herself to think back to only a few hours earlier, the intensity of the sensations, and a wave of heat rushed over her, so strong she actually felt a little physically sick.

It would have been tempting to let herself fall into the many thoughts that threatened to overwhelm her, all the reasons why last night was so wrong, and the reasons she should hate herself for allowing herself to think 'but it didn't _feel_ wrong'.

Instead she pushed all that to the back of her mind. There would be time to mull later, but right now she needed to deal with what felt like the worst hangover she'd ever experienced. Slowly, she let her eyes creep open, thankful for the closed blinds, and turned her head gently to glance at the glowing green numerals of the clock next to her bed. 13:40. She let out a groan and closed her eyes again, throwing her forearm across her face dramatically.

She'd thought that Damon would be gone, but when she heard a shuffle and opened her eyes again quickly, she was proved wrong.

He was leaning right over her, looking at her in a way that made her want to shrink back under the covers.

"Good. You're awake." His voice was void of any emotion, but she thought he looked a bit relieved. She gave out an apathetic groan in response, and began to move up onto her elbows. In a spectacularly unnecessary show of his vampire skills, she thought, Damon had her quickly pinned back down to the bed with one hand. For a moment Elena felt sure he was going to continue what had happened last night, and felt a surge of panic, as well as the heat of her cheeks blushing, before she realised he wasn't even looking at her as he held her down at the shoulder, the rest of his body turned away slightly.

"Don't sit up, not yet."

She began to protest, confused, but he simply gripped her harder, and she was silenced when she saw him bring his other arm to his face. She turned her face away, a wave of nausea rushing up her throat when she heard the noise of ripping flesh. She closed her eyes tightly when she saw him begin to swing back around, screwing up her nose at the smell of his blood. It wasn't unpleasant, but nor was it anything like the smell of her own blood.

"Elena." She knew he was holding his wrist in front of her, waiting. She ignored him, ignored the bed shifting with his weight as he sat down on the side, his hand still on her shoulder even though she was no longer trying to move.

"Come on Elena, hurry up, it'll drip…"

She cleared her throat, wincing at the pain it caused.

"I can't." She sounded so pathetic. She heard him sigh.

"It was part of the deal. Your idea, remember?"

"I know."

"So, you've…lost a lot of blood. You need this." He said, even-toned. She bit her lip, part of her wanted to cry and part of her wanted to just laugh at the weirdness of this situation.

"It's so…odd. It doesn't feel right." She hoped he couldn't see right through her, see the real reason she was hesitating. The intimacy of the act…it was too much, especially after the events of only a few hours ago.

Damon was silent for a while, and she cracked open her eyes, looking past the bloody wrist 10 inches from her face to where he sat facing her but not looking at her. His hair was freshly washed, he smelt clean. When he finally lifted his eyes to hers she silently berated herself for the clench she felt low in her abdomen.

"You'll get used to it." His voice was quiet, but the words were loaded with meaning. He understood. She studied him for a moment longer, his eyes were a peculiarly crystal clear blue, and looking back at her so earnestly she could only nod feebly. She saw him bring his wrist closer to her mouth out of the corner of her eye, but she kept her eyes trained on his face. Her body trembled lightly, she was terrified, although she wasn't quite sure why.

When she felt the moisture touch her closed lips, she slowly, reluctantly, opened her mouth, feeling the first taste of him settle on her tongue. Damon's eyes darkened, she saw them look down to her mouth and narrow.

"Close your lips around the surrounding skin, and suck," he commanded when she didn't do anything further. She rolled her eyes at him, wishing she could tell him to shut up – as if she didn't know what to do, and he gave her a quick grin. Then as she did as he'd said, he pulled his gaze from her, and his face became blank.

As Damon felt the first tentative tug of blood from his wrist he willed himself not to react. He was fairly confident he could do it, that is, prevent her from picking up anything revealing from his blood. After all, he'd done it before with other girls. Just not girls he was in love with. _Fuck_, and those were the exact thoughts he shouldn't be thinking while she was drinking from him. He managed to stay relatively blank minded for the next minute, until he felt her tongue licking around the wound before she pushed his arm away. He glanced over at her as the gash healed, but she avoided his gaze, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she pulled herself up in the bed.

He was pleased to see that she looked _much_ better already; her pale, cool skin and dark under-eyes had scared him when he watched over her as she slept.

"Feeling better?"

"Uh, yeah. Thanks." Elena was sure she sounded far more nonchalant than she felt. Just as well. Ignoring the feeling of his scrutinising gaze on her, she swung her legs out of bed and grabbed a towel from the cupboard before heading to the bathroom. Just as she was closing the door, she heard him say her name, saw him rise from the bed and begin to walk towards her, a question on his lips.

She let the gentle sound of the door shutting and locking answer for her.

.

.

.

It was a sunny afternoon, the glare of the light hitting the snow on the ground splashing the world with a strange brightness. For the first time in days, Elena felt good, carefree. She rolled down her window and let the cool air rush through the car at speed, causing her hair to blow everywhere in her face and mouth. She heard Damon laugh as she rolled the window back up, watching her pick her hair back out of her mouth. She gave him an amused smile in response and lent her head back against the window. She liked watching him drive when he was like this. So well-practiced and relaxed his movements were like liquid, he drove with the same skilled control that he did everything else with. Well, with the exception of murder perhaps.

"How long have you been driving for?" Elena asked, curiously, wanting to take advantage of his good mood.

Damon slowed down and glanced at his watch.

"Only about 3 hours since lunch. Why? Do you want to have a turn?"

Elena, surprised, shook her head. "No, I meant how many years…although if you want me to drive for a bit I'd be happy to. I just don't know where we're going."

"Don't worry about it. I'd rather not risk my safety", Damon replied with a grin, ignoring her grumbles, "And I've been driving since the middle of the nineteen twenties."

"Oh, wow. No wonder you're so good at it." Elena replied, somewhat stupidly.

"Applies to everything," Damon winked at her, "one of the advantages of eternal life."

Elena just raised an eyebrow. She didn't want to get into this kind of talk. He'd just reminded her of how good he really _was_ at some things in particular, but she didn't want to let on that she was thinking that. He was already cocky enough. Besides, they never actually talked about that early morning three days ago. She had felt extremely awkward for the first day, but Damon acted as if nothing had happened, and they had slowly slipped back into their usual dynamic, minus the disappearing acts he'd been prone to. She wasn't really sure what the post-blood drinking etiquette was, but it had slowly been dawning on her that he would need to feed again soon. He hadn't brought it up though, and she certainly didn't think she could just ask him. How do you bring up something like that? "_Hey Damon, remember the other night when you fed from me while simultaneously bringing me to multiple orgasms with your fingers? When do you wanna do that again?" _Not quite. Besides, she was fairly certain the whole orgasm thing was a one off. She rarely allowed herself to think about it, it was too complex, and the rush of sensations that even the memory brought back rather overwhelmed her to be honest.

She was jerked from her thoughts by the car slowing down and pulling off the main road, onto an unsealed gravel road.

"Where're we going?"

"I think we're here…" Damon replied slowly, squinting at the road thoughtfully. "It looks quite different, but I think it's the right one." He sounded as though he was talking to himself.

"The right what?" Elena asked, squinting ahead just like him, but seeing nothing but the same trees she'd been seeing for the past 200 miles.

"The right destination." Damon clarified, changing down gears as the road began to incline, and the car shuddered along, sending a cloud of dust up behind it.

"I didn't know we had a destination planned." Elena replied, her tone betraying a slight feeling exclusion.

Damon just snorted. "Of course I did."

Elena frowned, and decided not to give him the satisfaction of asking exactly what this destination was. Instead she settled back in her seat, grabbed some M&Ms from the packet between them and turned on the CD player. For the next ten minutes they passed through the forest without speaking, Damon taking several further turnoffs, until he suddenly turned onto a narrow, and surprisingly sealed, driveway, giving a small exclamation of satisfaction.

As they drove slowly along the driveway, Elena was surprised to see a small child run out from behind a tree up ahead, and jumped a little in her seat when Damon gave a series of beeps from the car horn, causing the small boy to laugh and wave. When they reached him, Damon rolled down his window and the boy, who Elena guessed was about seven, ran over, smiling.

"Damon! You came back!"

"How's it going Ed?" Damon replied easily, while Elena just gaped in the background. "I assume Mary's home?"

"In the kitchen, if I know that woman at all," Eddie replied with a roll of his eyes, sounding to Elena more like a husband than a child.

"I'll meet you up at the house," Damon said, before rolling the window back up. Just as Elena was about to ask what was going on, the question was ripped from her lips by a gasp, as Eddie was suddenly gone, speeding up the driveway and out of sight.

"Holy shit" she breathed, as Damon began the car again. "That kid's a vampire."

Damon just nodded.

"Don't worry. It's safe to be here. You'll see…"

Elena just stared at him. He glanced over at her and then beckoned ahead to where they were turning the corner, "Look."

Looming up ahead, only twenty metres away, was an enormous brick house, with a distinctly Gothic style. The grounds surrounding it were beautiful, if not somewhat unkempt, and although it looked a little strange in the middle of a pine forest, Elena couldn't help but be awed by the sight. Damon parked the car to the side, behind a few others.

He turned to face her, watching as she studied the building ahead. She finally tore her sight from the house, and met his gaze, as always unprepared for the beauty she found there. And as always, it stole the breath from her lungs. He looked extremely calm, and for the first time since they left Mystic Falls she actually wanted to say something of meaning to him. Ask him something _real_, something revealing. Something like, "Why did you let me come with you?" or "Why are you so full of pain?" Or maybe, "How can I make your pain go away?"

A small frown made its way onto his forehead, and before she could gather all these sudden thoughts into words, he was opening the car door and stepping out, as if he could sense what she'd been feeling. As if he knew she was finally ready for a conversation he wasn't sure he could have anymore.

He leaned back into the car for a moment and told her to come out when she was ready.

"Damon, what is this place?" Elena asked seriously.

"Have you ever wondered what happens to children who're turned?"

Elena was a little shocked to realise she hadn't. She'd just assumed that would never happen. "Who'd be so cruel as to turn a child?"

"A vampire." Damon replied simply, with a wry smile.

Elena glanced back up at the house, noticing children watching them from the upstairs windows.

"Why do you know this place?"

"This is where I brought Stefan about a year after we were turned." Elena looked back at Damon in shock. "This is where he learnt how to be the…_man_ he is today," he continued, with a hint of bitterness in his voice.

"I didn't know…" Elena said slowly, still confused.

"There are still a lot of things you don't know Elena." Damon began to close the door.

"Wait! I'm coming with you." Elena called out, scrabbling to undo her seatbelt, before opening her own door and jogging around to stand beside Damon. They started up towards the shadowed front porch, Elena falling slightly behind Damon as they got closer. She trusted him not to lead her into a dangerous situation, but a house full of vampires, children or not, was still an intimidating thought. He surprised her by reaching back and grabbing her hand, tugging her forwards so she was next to him again. She glanced up at him, but he didn't look back at her.

"You'll want to try to avoid showing weakness. These baby-vamps aren't dangerous, but they can be mean." He said by way of explanation, but didn't let go of her hand for a few seconds. Then as a woman appeared in the doorway, he gave Elena's hand a quick, hard squeeze, one she wasn't sure had anything to do with being reassuring, before he let it go.

Open your mouth sincere & slow  
Lay my lips on top of yours  
And every part you break me  
Surrender all your ghost  
Love trust in the things I say  
Release all of your ghost  
With broken fingers I built you this home  
Love I always find my way.

Questions, criticisms, and ideas are always, of course, welcome.


End file.
